


We Live and We Lie

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Heavy Angst, Lie Again - Seventeen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Post-Break Up, Sad, Songfic, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Moving forward. Onward. Up.CHoose the way you see your cupHalf-depleted? Semi-full?Grab the horns. Steer that bull"— Czeslaw Milosz, "Forget"-A collection of stories based on Seventeen's Lie Again.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Lee Chan | Dino, Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Kudos: 6
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2019/20





	1. Soonyoung/Jihoon/Wonwoo

1.

“I don’t like you   
I have come to not like you   
I don’t want to see you anymore   
Woo, please turn and go back.”

“Do you think he even hears us?” A voice, shaking as a single tear rolls downwards. It slips off the speaker’s cheek, slowly falling to the ground. Effortless. Timeless. Just the tear and gravity, on an endless loop of falling. A road to forever.  
Only forever never really existed, and the only thing tangible to the tear was the cold, damp ground where countless other tears dropped upon. Cold like the metal on his finger, a spoken promise of forever that never existed. It’s a curse, those empty words this human race dared call vows of promise. Nothing but bullshit when the willow trees sway in the winds that used to ruffle his hair.  
Jihoon keeps singing.

“To where you originally were   
To where I’m not present   
So please don’t love me   
Only pain will remain anyways.”

“You sound bitter.” A dry chuckle, otherwise evil and out of place in such a setting, but the heartbreak that comes with it is so unmistakably painful Jihoon can’t even feel angry at the source of the chuckle.  
Dry, like the tears on Jihoon’s cheeks. Dry, like the broken melody that was written in the back of a shaky car towards a place Jihoon wished to never see in his life.   
It was inevitable.  
He just wished they had more time.

“Please be fooled by whatever words   
Whether you know how awkward I’m being   
Turn a blind eye and turn your back and walk away   
If there is nothing more painful than a painful love   
Then go back before even more painful memories remain”

“You lasted an entire phrase this time,” A hum. Empty. Devoid of emotions. Jihoon wonders how Soonyoung copes with it all as if the stars above sucked away the dreamy haze of joy in the man. A shell. Not a single expression on his face as he chokes up.  
Slowly, Soonyoung descends to tears, a mess of crying and screaming, cursing the stars for letting this happen. Cursing the world for that one drunk driver, who cared not for the hearts connected to the man lying before them. Or at least, the memory of the man that lay below them. The distant touch of soft lips, soft hair and soft hands feel so faint now. Nothing but a trick of the wind, as tangible as the melody of wind chimes in a storm, broken by the thrashing winds. Rain accompanies their breaths, a wall from the rest of the world.  
Sooyoung cries, and he breaks.  
Jihoon follows suit.

“Parting with longing   
It may be less painful than a tearful meeting” 

“Why are you still singing? He’s not gonna hear us anyways.” Soonyoung snaps, tears too much for his voice to stay stable. The graveyard is a haunting blue, like daylight never knew the tombstones that lie around the small hill. He would never know the sun again, Jihoon thinks bitterly. His heart breaks again, dissipating into fine shards of glass, the memory of joy barely remembers it.  
Jihoon removes his ring.  
It was silver, matching with Soonyoung’s gold. At their feet lies a single broken bronze one. And below their feet, the body of their third of the universe.  
It would never be whole again.  
“I’m okay.” Soonyoung sniffs when Jihoon offers a hand to help him up. Jihoon nods, tears flowing again as he shakily finishes the song phrase.

“I lie again.”


	2. Chan/Vernon; Seungkwan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// attempted suicide

“Let’s break up.”

The air is salty that day, filled with the ocean’s tears. The winds were a little wilder than usual, less of an organized symphony Seungkwan had grown to love and more of a tone-deaf kindergarten choir. It seems even the world was sad at what happened. Their quaint little college town was eerily quiet, the tension in the air almost suffocating to walk in.

Then again, it could simply be the shock slapping Seungkwan in the face.

A sad smile blossoms on his friend’s face, the kind that spoke of so much and so little at the same time. Chan is silent as they listen to the winds, turning to face his boyfriend of six years. His eyes meet Seungkwan’s for the slightest hint of time before they travel a little further to meet Hansol’s instead.

“I was wondering which one of us would do it.”

That day, the world didn’t even cry.

_ I don’t like you  _

_ I have come to not like you  _

_ I don’t want to see you anymore  _

The next three weeks were a suffocating state of hell for Seungkwan. It’s strange, how he seems more heartbroken for these two boys than they were themselves. His sister would call him an overly emotional worry rat to explain this behaviour, but she didn’t understand the kind of story Chan and Hansol had. High school sweethearts, childhood best friends, couple’s goal in college,... everything imaginable. Hansol made Chan happy in ways no one else could, and Chan brought out the joy in Hansol the way even the world could never dream of. They were two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, all of that cheesy stuff Seungkwan and Chan loved to drag Hansol into. There wasn’t a single hitch in their relationship.

At least, nothing Seungkwan can think of.

See, if one wanted to truly understand Chan and Hansol, one had to first understand Chan, Hansol and Seungkwan.

_ Woo, please turn and go back  _

_ To where you originally were  _

_ To where I’m not present  _

_ So please don’t love me  _

_ Only pain will remain anyways  _

Three boys who met on the first day of grade school, all bright-eyed and missing teeth. The first hailed all the way from Jeju, and spoke nothing bad of a place he’s only grown up in for 6 years. The second came from a little further away, carrying memories of a big city of dreams and hope. The third carried a more local flavour, growing up just down the street from their meeting place. Regardless, sharing tangerines and swings for one day was enough to build a relationship that would carry forever. There was a little bag back then, about the size of a lunch bag. It was filled with every treasure deemed valuable by three six-year-old boys, tucked neatly under Hansol’s bed with an elaborate map Hansol’s mom helped them make. No one could ever steal their treasures, other than mothballs and dust. Those were the days of bliss when they promised to remember every little moment of joy forever.

At age eight, even the hiders themselves forgot about it.

_ Please be fooled by whatever words  _

_ Whether you know how awkward I’m being  _

_ Turn a blind eye and turn your back and walk away  _

_ If there is nothing more painful than a painful love  _

_ Then go back before even more painful memories remain  _

Some time in grade six, Chan, Seungkwan and Vernon became Chan and Seungkwan.

Vernon had moved away, even with the promise of calling every week and texting whenever they would get their first phone. It was somehow enough, for two boys to look forward to a single call that lasted hours past curfew every week, ignoring the rest of the world’s reminder of their loneliness. The phone Chan’s mom bought for him in grade six became their saving grace, despite being only able to call and text on it.

(Some time in grade seven, they also figure out how to play flappy bird on it, and the days of boredom waiting for that fateful call became a little more interesting. Seungkwan likes to pretend the score difference between him and Chan is a little closer than 30.)

Some time in grade eight, Chan and Seungkwan were harder to find.

Maybe it had to do with the dance classes Chan started to spend more time on, or the piles of homework they started to receive. Maybe it was that they switched classes, and no longer got to see each other often anymore.

But really, it was the hidden bruises, dotted everywhere on Seungkwan’s body. Scars from the kids a little bigger and stronger than him, that’s all. Chan never found out. Not really, until he saw the first one on Seungkwan’s forearm. The arguments came soon after, one who tried to help and one who refused it. The drift sped up with every unintentional blade of words thrown at each other.

At age 13, Chan and Seungkwan became Chan, and the friend he lost.

_ Parting with longing  _

_ It may be less painful than a tearful meeting _

At age 14, Chan moved away. It was scary, how fast they lost contact. Even Hansol, who promised to call every week had started to forget, and that was the first time Seungkwan felt truly alone. Ninth grade was a terror for him. The marker on his desk was proof of exactly how alone he was, and the earbud of sad ballads on an afternoon sunset over the school’s rooftop reminded Seungkwan of just that. He had been so close to the edge, only a hair away that spring afternoon. They say spring is the season of hope. Hansol came back to visit just at the right time.

_ I lie again  _

_ Words that aren’t the truth  _

_ I lie again  _

_ Words that I don’t want to say  _

_ I lie again _

At age 15, Seungkwan took a scholarship to Seoul, to pursue his musical acting dreams in a boarding school closer to Hansol, per his insistence.

At age 15, it became Hansol and Seungkwan versus the rest of the world.

Perhaps, if they had kept in contact more often, Seungkwan would’ve had one other boy to keep him company in the big city they now resided in. They see Chan around for the bare minimum, each interaction a little shorter than the last. They shared English together, one of the only classes where Seungkwan gets to interact with the other boy. The hallways were bleak and gray on the daily, a reminder of the mundane cycle Seungkwan had thrown himself in when he first pushed his two friends away. Hansol soon became their only method of contact, as the mutual friend stuck between a friendship that kept secrets from each other.

Secrets.

Those pesky little feelings, able to tear even the strongest of bonds apart.

_ We changed and we wanted more  _

_ I hurt you with words that weren’t what I meant _

At age 15, Hansol asked Chan out.

Seungkwan was infinitely happy for them, so happy to see his friends so happy. Somehow, even with the newfound relationship, their friendship didn’t waver. Hansol refused each and every one of Seungkwan’s excuse to miss their dates, and not even none of them made him feel like a third wheel. There was a rocky time, at age 17, when Seungkwan drove himself into a corner with guilt when Chan and Hansol had a fight. There was a broken vase, belonging to Hansol’s parents, hastily glued back together and hid so no one would know. It didn’t quite matter in the end, but Hansol’s mom was lenient. At the very least, that was the argument’s only casualty.

Now, Seungkwan wasn’t so sure of that count anymore.

_ Even as I need you every day I push you away  _

_ Knowing I’m going to regret it  _

Seungkwan’s never dated before. Maybe that should’ve been the first warning sign because he became the least qualified person ever to give dating advice. Regardless, Chan and Hansol always came to him. They told him everything, good and bad, of their relationship, of their day, of anything that would cross their mind. In a way, maybe the fact that they broke up was Seungkwan’s fault after all. Something ugly twists in Seungkwan’s stomach every time Chan and Hansol meet again, so happy and joyful as if they didn’t break up. As if nothing ever happened. Seungkwan tries to read between the lines. He tried to find something, anything, that could explain what the hell was going on.

Then again, maybe it was just Seungkwan’s fear of being direct.

“You can ask it, y’know?” Chan whispers softly. Seungkwan stops in his track, silently asking for what Chan means although he knew exactly what it was. The soft layer of snow over their heads is cold to be aware of, only just getting through to Seungkwan. The pair is standing right in front of the park, watching the town’s lights and merry air. Yet another odd thing, how not a single part of the world seemed to be a little darker for anyone. It seems, Seungkwan was the only one affected, despite not even being the ones to break up.

“Why’d you guys break up?” Seungkwan asks. Chan’s smile is thin, a melancholic hint to it as he stares at Seungkwan. Years of friendship let Seungkwan see the gears in Chan’s brain turning, looking for a way to break it to him.

Only a sigh came. “Sometimes, nothing is as it seems.”

Seungkwan frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at our story, right? Trying to find out why.”

Seungkwan nods, not sure where this is going. The smile on Chan’s face turns heart-wrenchingly sad, an overwhelming sense of longing pouring into the chocolate brown orbs.

“You only remember what you want to remember, and that makes a story. But this?’ Chan gestures around him, “This isn’t a story. There’s no definitive reason or explanation for people. Why do people fall in love? Why do people cherish others? Why do people live, love and learn? A story can’t explain that. We love and we live. We lie, cry, apologize and forgive. It’s life, and it’s stories. It still doesn’t explain anything.” Chan says all at once as if something finally snapped in him watching Seungkwan beat himself up.

“Sometimes, you just can’t explain things.”


End file.
